


Required

by thisprettywren



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprettywren/pseuds/thisprettywren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/6375.html?thread=28891879#t28891879">this prompt </a>on <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/">sherlockbbc_fic</a>.</p></blockquote>





	Required

“I knew you’d end up enjoying this.”

John could hear the satisfaction in Greg’s voice. The man sounded almost _smug_ , which was an interesting choice of attitude for someone in his particular position to adopt. Would have been interesting, that is, if it weren’t so bloody irritating.

“Oh?” John said mildly. He refused to allow any sign of reaction to creep into his voice, though he did pull the knot below Greg’s wrists perhaps a touch tighter than strictly necessary.

“Oh yes. Barely even took any convincing.” John could hear the grin in the other man’s voice and steadfastly ignored it. He carefully guided the rope attached to Greg’s newly-bound forearms around and between the loops holding his ankles crossed beneath him. “But then, I always knew you were a soft touch.”

“A soft touch,” he echoed, trying to sound as impassive as possible, betraying no reaction. He wove the trailing ends of the rope through the web wrapping Greg’s forearms, tying the final knot halfway between his elbows, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

John had been half-heartedly attempting to tidy the flat when he received Greg’s text a week earlier:  
`  
Required: the assistance of one army doctor. Bring takeaway.`

When he’d arrived at Greg’s fourth floor walk-up, the other man had seemed strangely nervous as they picked their way through dim sum and pork lo mein in the small main room of the flat. When John had leaned over to kiss him, he stood and led John back to the bedroom, where he pulled open the top drawer of the bureau to reveal several coils of hemp rope, oiled to softness.

John had simply stared at the other man in surprise. They’d played around with the use of Greg’s cuffs, on a few occasions— _m_ _emorable_ occasions, for the most part—but always with John doing the actual wearing of them.

“For you,” Greg said hurriedly, preempting John’s question. “To use on me, I mean.” He’d explained that he preferred the feel, that it felt “less like work; you know what it’s like,” and John had recalled his own previous partners who’d been a little too interested in the things he carried in his medical kit, and nodded. Greg managed to be both straightforward in his desire and undemanding, demonstrating that frank and accepting personality that John liked so much, and though it made John’s stomach flutter a bit at the thought, he found he wanted to make the other man happy in this way. If he could.

Still, he’d demurred, and Greg had nearly been successful in keeping the disappointment out of his eyes. When John got home that evening, though, he found himself sitting at his laptop researching positions and techniques.

A week later, Sherlock left for an afternoon of don’t-want-to-know at the morgue and it had been John’s turn to send a text.  
`  
Required: the assistance of one detective inspector. Bring supplies for detention of incorrigible suspect.`

And that was how Greg ended up naked and kneeling on John’s bed while John’s fingers worked deftly, knotting the rope into an intricate harness. John had bound Greg’s calves to his thighs, forcing his legs to remain bent; he’d helped him manoeuvre until he was perched on a cushion and then tied his crossed ankles together, forcing him to keep his knees wide on the bed. He’d then pulled the whole thing together with a final run of the rope from his ankles up to his forearms, which were bound together at the small of his back, each palm pressed against the opposite elbow.

Greg shifted experimentally, and John was gratified to see that he could barely shift himself in any direction, the constriction of his muscles and the lack of purchase afforded by the mattress working together to prevent him from getting any real leverage. He had to admit the ropes looked good, fresh and white against Greg’s lightly-tanned skin, accentuating the still-impressive muscles underneath. Greg was obviously enjoying himself, his cock already half-hard just from the feel of John’s hands on his skin.

John wanted to kiss the smirk right off that beautiful mouth. He leaned in to do just that, running his hand over the silvering hair, and Greg gave a small moan into his mouth. When he pulled back, Greg’s eyes were still glinting with expectation.

“Oh yes,” Greg said, “a total pushover.” It was probably true, at least in some respects, but John couldn’t get over the unabashed _cheek_ of the man.

He chewed the inside of his lip, considering. Then he let a smile light his face. “To a point,” he admitted, “and lucky for you.”

“I’ll say.” Greg was grinning with anticipation and squirming slightly, and John was seized by the sudden need to demonstrate just how wrong Greg was.

He leaned over and grabbed one of his medical journals off the desk, then settled in beside Greg, leaning against the headboard and drawing up his knees to hide the fact that his own trousers had grown a bit more snug in the last few minutes. He flipped to an interesting article on liver toxicity and began to read, forcing himself to focus on the printed words.

After a few minutes Greg cleared his throat. “John.”

“Mm?” He kept his voice amiable but didn’t raise his eyes.

“John.”

“Greg.”

“ _John._ ”

“Yes? Oh, I’m sorry, did you want something? Something else, I mean?” He raised his head and met the other man’s gaze, keeping his face a careful blank. He couldn’t help the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes,” Greg said, and it was nearly a growl. “Don’t just. God, John, _touch_ me.”

“Oh,” he said, as though it were something just occurring to him and not something his fingertips had been itching to do since they’d lost contact with the other man’s skin several minutes earlier. “If you want. I suppose I can’t argue with such a simple request, me being such a _pushover_ and all.”

He reached out his right hand and wrapped it loosely around Greg’s cock, feeling it twitch and grow harder at the contact. Greg hissed an inhale, but instead of doing what he obviously wanted, John simply left his hand there and turned back to his reading.

“ _John,_ ” the other man said when John flipped the page, and his voice contained the edge of something that sounded a lot like anger. “Bloody move, or do. Do _something_.”

John gave an exasperated-sounding sigh. “I really don’t think I ought to be the one to do everything, Greg, do you? Don’t want to be _too much_ of a pushover, after all. If you want it so badly, I’m sure you can figure out a way to do it yourself.” He gave an encouraging squeeze, and Greg’s cock grew harder as his hips rocked forward slightly in reaction. “Yeah,” John said, using his most neutral voice, “like that. If you want it.”

John let his hand relax, resuming his loose grip, and a growl of frustration rose from Greg’s throat. Without taking his eyes off his journal, John leaned in to plant a small kiss on Greg’s shoulder, and felt the shiver move through him; it was only a few seconds after that Greg began to move under him, shifting his hips forward and backward fractionally to try to get some friction.

John kept his hand deliberately, infuriatingly loose as Greg worked himself to full hardness, fucking himself with John’s loose fist. He was still keeping up the pretence of reading, though if he were being honest with himself he would have to admit that he wasn’t absorbing a word of the study. Every time he flipped the page he reached up with his other hand to stroke Greg’s head or run his fingers encouragingly along the ropes crisscrossing his shoulder.

Greg’s breath was coming quickly through his nose. John could feel a quivering already beginning in the muscles of his thighs from the strain of the movement. “Not getting tired already, are you?” he asked, his tone conversational.

“God, John, just fucking—“

John pulled his hand away altogether and Greg broke off with a groan. “I don’t really think you’re in a position to be making demands here, do you? Seems like someone in your situation might want to think about asking nicely. If he were to say anything at all, of course.”

Greg’s eyes grew wide with understanding. John held them until he finally nodded mutely. John rewarded him with a small smile and wrapped his hand once again around the base of his erection, the skin hot under his touch.

Greg’s hips immediately gave a small shuddering jerk as his eyes fell closed. Then he found his rhythm again, and John resumed his reading.

Three pages later, Greg was sweating and pulling against the ropes binding his arms. “John.”

“Mmm.”

“ _John._ ” It was a demand and a plea, and hearing it _did things_ to the secret place at the base of John’s spine.

This wasn’t particularly easy for him, either, though he was determined not to show it.

“Yes, Greg. I’m right here,” he said, in the calm voice he used with anxious patients.

When Greg didn’t say anything else, John looked up and met his eyes. They were dark in his face, and John had never seen him looking so—

Suddenly John was kissing him, though he hadn’t meant to. Greg whimpered into his mouth, his lips warm and wet and John wanted him so badly in that moment he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep this up much longer. He was achingly hard, himself, and Greg was obviously so ready. It was only with an effort that he pulled his mouth away and kept his hand loose.

Greg’s hips were moving faster but less steadily, still seeking friction that simply wasn’t there.

“What do you want?” John asked, and it was too breathy for him to keep up his pretended indifference any more.

“ _You_ just… anything, God, _please_ —“ Greg’s voice was just as breathy and desperate and John couldn’t help himself from rewarding him with a tightening of his grip. Greg moaned and pushed harder, pulled up short by the ropes. He gave a shudder of frustration and leaned forward to grab John’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling him in for another kiss. “ _Please,_ ” he breathed again, lips against John’s open mouth, and _yes, oh yes,_ John wanted to give him what he needed.

Instead, he released Greg’s cock to unbuckle his belt, lowering the zip on his trousers to release his own erection. He moved to kneel in front of Greg, his knees against the inside of Greg’s own.

He clasped the back of Greg’s head and pulled him in for a kiss, pushing his tongue roughly into the other man’s mouth. He drew his fingers down Greg’s chest, playing along the bones of his hips and the inner creases of his thighs. Greg was whimpering and squirming against the soft rope. When John ran one finger along the vein on the underside of his cock it was slick with precome and John brought his finger up to the corner Greg’s mouth, pressing it past his lips so he could taste himself.

“John, _please,_ ” he whimpered around the finger.

John grinned, bringing one hand down play lightly with Greg’s sack while his other hand found his own erection. In half a dozen strokes he came to his own shivering climax, the hot fluid coating Greg’s abdomen and running down to his cock.

Greg just shuddered, too far gone to find the words necessary to ask for what he needed.

“All right,” John agreed finally, and bent down to take him in his mouth, tasting his own climax on the other man’s hot skin.

The effect was almost instantaneous. John was forced to pull his mouth away and sit up so that Greg could rest his head on his shoulder as he came in long, quivering spasms. He finished with his mouth open and gasping, pressed against the wooly fabric covering John’s shoulder.

John waited until he could no longer feel the aftershocks running through Greg’s muscles before reaching behind him to begin undoing the intricate knots. When the ropes finally fell away John helped ease him down onto the bed, cleaning up the worst of the mess with a fistful of tissues and pulling up a blanket to cover him.

Greg was lying with with eyes closed, grinning. John felt a smile spread across his own lips.

He leaned in to kiss the warm skin of Greg’s forehead.

“Proved me right, you know.”

“How’s that?” John asked, pulling off his jumper and lying down behind the other man, one arm wrapped over his waist.

“You absolutely _are_ a soft touch.”

John laughed softly into the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt ](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/6375.html?thread=28891879#t28891879)on [sherlockbbc_fic](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/).


End file.
